Jack was overcome by a wave of confusing and conflicted emotions, as he and Mama walked out from under the limbs of the trees, and out into the sun at the edges of the town. All at once, he was happy to be away from the dangers and corruption that was gripping that place, and disgusted to once more be in the company of densely living human kind. Making haste, he made for the hill where the tents had been pitched when he had packed up and left so many days prior. He regretted not taking the tent down, and he worried that perhaps wind had wrecked it, or worse. The thought of just kicking back for the full rest of the afternoon, just he and mama beneath the folds of the tent, and buried up to their ears in soft dry leaves with all the privacy they could ask for, just sang inside him for reasons he could not find words for. That bread had banished any appetite from either of them, and all that was left needed quenching was weariness from all the unmitigated travel, and lying there, in pleasing company, just the two of them-- it was an intoxicating thought.
But it was not meant to be.
His heart went from a song filled lilt, to a crashing china cabinet in seconds. Where once his tent, his refuge from his fellow man had stood, proud and resolute-- empty charred ground stood. He could see it from a considerable distance, after rounding past the side of the inn. He sat to the ground, a crushed and battered man.
Mama was at least comforting. She did not understand the significance of the fire at first, until he put it in terms she could comprehend-- His "Den" had been destroyed numerous times by fires set by other two legged things, and this time, they did it before he had stayed even a single full day. She licked his face lovingly, and commented that the space was too open for her tastes anyway-- not well sheltered from rain, snow, or wind-- and too far from any good cover or food. Just not a good place at all. She teased him about putting a den there in the first place-- Lovingly, but still teasing. She suggested that the two of them dig a new one-- Someplace better-- together.
His heart lept-- It was a great idea!
But then he looked at where the sun was in the sky-- seeing it was too low. There wouldn't be enough time before the sun went down tonight, and further, he did not have the tools he needed to make a good temporary one, let alone a good proper one. Mama chided him again, asking wryly if he REALLY wanted to set up a permanent one this close to the crazy 2 legged things and their strange smells. He chuckled, rubbed her all over, and wrestled with her playfully in the sun, leaving large wallows in the grass. He felt for sure those meddlesome village children could see them, but he didn't care. She was right of course-- A permanent "den" would be stupid to put here; he would never subject mama to that, but in terms of safety, this awful place was about the best that could be had at the moment, given the circumstances. To that, even Mama agreed.
The fun gave way to somber submission of truth and fact. He would .... have to sleep... In THAT place... tonight-- and that meant certain "standards" would have to be kept. He took a deep breath, and exhaled it with a groan. Mama licked his face, and broadcast a mixture of amusement, curiosity and disappointment at the implication of his thoughts, and what was necessary.
It as no use dawdling. He had places to go, people to see, and things he needed to buy. It was gonna be a long day tomorrow, and a rough night in the inn tonight.
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The shop keepers had been reticent to serve him as a patron, at least at first. His appearance and personal scent did not do well to inspire confidence in his promises of coin, but the jingle of his coinpurse did. One thing he felt he could always rely on humans to do, would be to supplicate themselves and their actual beliefs before the god of mammon. It disgusted him, but on the other, he was grateful that they were taking his patronage, and selling him the wares he needed. He placed an order at the blacksmith's shop for an outdoor cooking tripod-- the kind that you could break down, and use as a cooking spit as needed, along with a small hand axe-- picked up materials for making milled soap at the general goods store, and getting several strange looks until he explained why he was purchasing the cheapest distilled rotgut they had, (Typical, they probably felt he was going to go drink himself into a sour-breathed stupor or some other fool thing. He was NOT *THAT* kind of hobo. Hrmph--) along with various other bits of miscellany he would need to get properly set up tomorrow, and to properly put up appearances tonight for .... the stay...
Total expenses were pretty modest though, coming to a very affordable 6 gold coins, and amounted to the purchase of a village man's trousers and top, scissors, a shaving brush, 5lbs of soap, a pad of bees wax, a ceramic baking pan, and a number of other general goods, in addition to the previously stated transactions.
The sun hung low in the afternoon after making arrangements, and paying for merchandise with the various shops in town. For now, he needed to get some good quality milled soap made. Something both he and Mama could agree on as a fragrance. He was perfectly accepting of how she smelled, just as she was, but from experience, he knew inn keepers were snooty little shits, and would complain if even the slightest bit of "Wild animal" graced the room after the agreed term of stay, and that his own natural scent was simply not tolerable at all by such persons. He would have to smell "Fresh and Clean", and so would she, and that meant a full immersion bath with scrubbing, and a good scented soap. He did not trust the villagers to have stocked the inn with something tolerable-- Probably have some cloying floral crap in there that he did not fancy wearing, and that he doubted mama would enjoy wearing either-- and for the rest of the evening, he set to work cutting up the raw soap he had purchased, and milling it into fine bathing bars, blended with pine and cedar rosins, plucked from the trees at the forest edges, dissolved in the white liquor he had purchased, and a tablespoon of honey from the sealed crockery he had picked at the general goods store. He gently heated, and poured the mixture into the ceramic backing pan, and let it cool. The addition of the alcohol and honey, even though it had been cooked to boiling, and all the alcohol had cooked off, had transformed the soap from a hard, deep tan, and opaque solid, to a soft, fragrant, smooth, and translucent amber one. The acridity of the soap was something you could do nothing about-- it was just the way soap was, but there was a good, wholesome and hearty fragrance of pine needles and cedar wood, with a sweet honey hit to it. Mama wanted to know if it would taste the way it smelled, and he quickly corrected her on the very idea of trying it. He liked her too much to have her experience the extreme displeasure of having soap in her mouth-- and instead, poured a little of the honey onto his palm, and shared it with her as a treat. She wanted the whole crock, but he told her he was saving it to put on that amazing bread, should they need to eat any again when traveling again. She grumbled at him, but accepted the reasoning.
The sun was nearly set, when he took his freshly cut bars of milled soap, and the still-wrapped new clothes to the inn, knocked on the door, and confronted the innkeeper.
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Topic: Mystville [Game Thread] (Read 122156 times)